


Nasty

by Hambone



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Filth Kink, M/M, Scents & Smells, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rattrap was always considered disgusting, but Starscream has his moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nasty

**Author's Note:**

> Had a lot of fun with this one. It's set early Windblade era. Thanks to the anon who suggested it a bajillion years ago! Enjoy!

Trust was never a question between them, and so it was never asked for. Even if it had been, the answer would have been obvious to anyone within a five planet radius: there was none. Rattrap trusted no one, and no one could trust Starscream. It would be idiotic for them to trust each other.

Which is what made their business partnership so perfect. The questions didn’t need to be asked because the answers were already apparent. Except in some cases, when Rattrap was sure he didn’t want the answers anyways.

For example, now.

Starscream was doing it again.

“You, ah, you need somethin’, boss?”

Shifting a little in his seat, Starscream smirked languidly.

“Always.”

Resisting the urge to slap his face and potentially defect, Rattrap shrugged.

“Anything I can actually help ya’ with?”

Chuffing noncommittally, Starscream lazily sipped his drink and turned back to the city. His apartment was half windows, lights like stars pouring in at all times. Rattrap found it worrying, like being under constant scrutiny from everywhere at once, but Starscream seemed to bask in the idea of being observed in all his glory. There were some rooms, of course, that were completely private, and they were so high above the streets that only fliers could even have a chance of peeking inside, but it still left a bad taste in Rattrap’s mouth. Well, a worse one.

As such, he was standing as far back into the inner corner a he could, waiting for that flighty idiot to make up his mind about where he wanted to get whatever his under the table info was. Timing was everything, of course, so it was important that the decision was thought out, but for Spark’s sake, if he spent the rest of the night mulling over it they would lose their chance regardless. It would probably help is Starscream would stop being so theatrically smug and actually did something.

“So you want me ta’…get goin’ then?”

Starscream had been staring at him for several kliks without speaking and it made his protoweave fur crawl.

“Yes, yes. Right.”

He waited a few minutes more, but Starscream neglected to speak. Or forgot. He was staring airily off into the evening sky, as if no one was waiting on him for important information.

“Boss. Where do I go.”

Another smile that put him on edge, Starscream’s sharp teeth a little too flashy for comfort.

“Metroplex is a big place, but there’s only one tunnel that our little friend will be passing through. Down by the refinery. You know where, I’ve sent you there before.”

Rattrap sniffed, a little annoyed that his talent with tunnels was being glossed over so rudely. But that was Starscream’s greatest skill, after all: rudeness. Finally being permitted to back fully out of sight, he scurried off into the darkening city, performing the first step in their carefully plotted sabotage. So what if his current employer was a nutter? It wouldn’t be the first time, and it was doubtfully the last. Besides, he knew how to take care of himself.

000

Well, it could have gone worse. The tunnels were unkempt and crawling with rust and dust and debris. Not that that was anything Rattrap was unused to, but normally he didn’t fall into puddles of Primus-knows and then come home with every little piece of junk he’d stumbled upon thereafter clinging to his ratty pelt.

Ratty being the operative word. It was always easier to sneak around in beast mode, but at this point he was more worried about the consequences of a change, things catching and grinding in his seams as he transformed. It wasn’t until he’d reached the lift in Starscream’s glitzy complex that he even tried, ignoring the decidedly shocked looks from the surrounding denizens. Some junk did cause him trouble, but for the most part it all popped off as his parts whirled to rearrange themselves. Not bothering to pick up after himself, Rattrap stalked into the apartment.

“Job’s done, although I’m hopin’ it didn’t include anything else for th’ night, because I’m in some wicked need for a high power solvent bath.”

Starscream was out of his chair within nano-kliks, pacing across the room towards him. Rattrap was taken aback, although not enough to actually run. Stopping uncomfortably close, Starscream leaned in over him.

“Everything is in place?”

“Yup…that’s kinda what I said.”

“Mmhmmm.”

His voice sounded a little slurred, and immediately after humming Starscream breathed in deeply. Normally people didn’t breathe in at all around Rattrap, and he began to wonder if his boss was on something.

“Eh, you been drinkin’, boss?”

“A little.”

They stood in silence a moment more, Starscream looking him over with interest he did not reciprocate. He didn’t seem overly overcharged, and it was certainly not the first time he had behaved strangely around his subordinate, if there was even a normal for him, but his closeness was uncomfortable and Rattrap was thinking he should probably get out while he still could.

“I’m drippin’ all over your rug, I should probably…go get cleaned off…”

He trailed off as Starscream hummed again, shivering a little as he spoke. Whatever he was on, it was some seriously weird stuff. Rattrap began to turn away but was stopped by a sharp hand on his shoulder.

“You can use mine. I wouldn’t want you gunking up the apartments…any more than you already have.”

To be honest, he was surprised Starscream wasn’t angrier about it. Also, the touching was, while not exactly new, surprising due to his current condition. The mech was a vain, meticulous groomer. It was a little bizarre that’d he’d voluntarily muss himself.

“Uh, wouldn’t want ta’ clog your drains.”

He tried to back away again but the hand tightened.

“It’s no problem, really. I have half the city drooling at my feet, and the other half in close pursuit. I’m sure there’s someone out there who will unclog them again, no questions asked.”

Somehow he doubted the suspicious nature of the clog was the main focus of Starscream’s insistence, but he relented anyhow, unwilling to dwell on the matter.

“If ya' insist…”

“Oh, I do.”

He was herded through the apartment, oil and energon and other liquid debris trailing behind them on the nice tile. What was Starscream playing at, allowing his place to be dirtied so easily? There was the ever present thought that he had outlived his usefulness and Starscream now intended to off him, but that seemed so sudden and needless at this point that, while he still tensed in preparation for the worst, he couldn’t begin to imagine why. Especially in here, his own home, by himself. Rattrap was Starscream’s dirtiest accomplice, but not his only one. It would be foolish, even for someone as self-centered as he, to attempt to take out Rattrap alone.

When they reached the wash rack he was again assaulted with the kind of superfluous finery that he found both disgusting and attractive, the idea of the wealth itself appealing more than the bourgeois aspect. It was unsurprising that Starscream’s cleaning station consisted of both the usual shower appliances as well as an actual bath, deep and inlaid in the floor. Rattrap hated that kind; someone was gonna slip and crack their processor one day. Not today, he hoped.

Starscream made no effort to actually steer him into the bath, though, shutting the door and moving to gussy up the counter a bit. It was a pointless and confusing gesture, because they both knew full well that Rattrap could care less about the room’s cleanliness at this point, particularly now when he really just wanted to pull the little scraps of junk from his fur and seams. Something behind his beast mode legs was caught and itching, and he was sure he was going to smell for cycles after. That is to say, more than usual.

Speaking of which, Starscream was inhaling heavily again. Rattrap was beginning to worry that something was wrong with his ventilation systems, because he had been doing it a lot lately. Tonight, though, he made no effort to hide it, swaying in close to Rattrap as he moved about the room and opening every vent wide.

“So, uh, we gonna do this or…?”

Beyond the point of being phased, Starscream smiled that unsettling smile.

“Soon. Give me a minute to straighten up.”

Again, why?

“Right, boss, right.”

Rattrap’s self-preservation instincts were shrieking at him to get out, but Starscream was between him and the door. Something as seemingly inane as a wash rack had so many hidden disasters in wait, and he was not keen to be caught in one of them. Intentional or not.

No move was made to get him into the tub. Starscream was definitely stalling. Finally, after another sweep and another unfortunately obvious snuff, Rattrap’s impatience won out over common sense.

“Alright, what’s your angle?”

He was more sour than scared, the words coming out slow and bored.

“Angle?” Starscream tittered.

“I don’t know what you-”

“You’re sniffin’ me.”

It was apparently a chance well taken, because Starscream stiffened, a look flashing, just briefly, across his optics as if he had truly not been expecting that. True to form, however, he righted himself with the same smooth grace as always.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Normally, I’d agree wit’ ya’, but it’s been goin’ on long enough that I’m gettin’ real tired of this dumb act.”

Starscream scoffed.

“As if any right minded bot would want to even ventilate around you. You don’t exactly smell like a box of fresh wax.”

“I’m aware.”

He’d pushed a button, and although he wasn’t exactly sure what would result, Rattrap could smell blood in the water and he was going to take a bite.

“Really begs the question, then, why a prissed up Nobel like you seems to be getting’ off on it.”

Two things happened at once: Starscream let out an entirely undignified yelp and tackled him straight back into the tub. It hurt, a lot, actually, with bottles of fancy wash and polish scattering everywhere, but Rattrap hardly had time to react before Starscream was pushing him down into the dry basin, straddling his waist and grasping at his chest fur as if he meant to hit him.

“How dare you make the accusation that I, newly crowed ruler of all Cybertron, would be attracted to a filthy, disgusting little creature like you!”

Words that would normally have been spoken with humored contempt were now spilling out slurred and raw, Starscream’s fans blasting on in a painfully obvious admission of guilt. Rattrap squawked, trying to pull his trapped arms out from under his pointed knees, but Starscream held fast, looming over him and again breathing deep.

“You’re pathetic, thinking all this time that I had some sort of perverted fixation with how lowly and _dirty_ you are!”

Even as he said this his hands began to run through the oil soaked fur, smoothing up and down until they themselves were thickly coated. The motions rocked their pelvises together and Rattrap could acutely feel the way Starscream’s burned. His struggles increased tenfold.

“Maybe,” Starscream cooed, leaning in until his warm breath washed over Rattrap’s face, “you’re just taking out your sick fantasies about me, thinking that I would actually return your affections. How quaint.”

Rattrap curled up what passed as his lip.

“…You even hearin’ yourself?”

Instead of responding in words, Starscream licked a path clean off the side of his face. Rattrap’s vocalizer nearly shorted out.

“B-boss!”

Yes, he had lost the coherency and poise that was putting him on top in this situation, but as it was, on his back in a bathtub, it had only been a matter of time anyhow. Starscream weighed down against him, sharp fingers skittering everywhere, and Rattrap could not even free his own hands.

“What are you doin’?!”

A sharp hiss as their lower halves again ground together.

“I do not _sniff_ people, do you understand? I am not a lowly pervert who gets off on your rancid scent or your wretched, filthy little fingers!”

This was some kind of weird. Rattrap was beyond floored by the display, and, unfortunately, really aroused. Starscream was beautiful, that was a known fact. It wasn’t as if he had never imagined them getting a little closer, because, really, who wouldn’t want those smooth thighs flexing around their waist?

He hadn’t exactly wanted it like this, but he was beginning to wonder if he cared enough to keep protesting. Starscream clearly had some issues here, some queer little kinks, but Rattrap could ride that wave just fine. Especially if he kept rubbing against him like that.

“Seems like you’re sniffin’ me right now!”

He had been, nose buried in Rattrap’s chest as he inhaled deeply, but the accusation made he recoil in shock, pinching Rattrap’s thigh harshly. Rattrap squealed like a caught glitch mouse.

“Ey!”

“How dare you!”

Starscream descended upon him again, rubbing and licking as if that was some form of punishment. Perhaps he simply could not help himself. Honestly, Rattrap could not understand the appeal, but he was digging it regardless. Yeah, he felt gooey and disgusting still, but at least high and mighty Starscream was rolling around in it too, happy as a Scraplet in a graveyard. The tub was beginning to color with the filth, spreading around as they wriggled, handprints and long smears decorating the walls.

It was disorienting. Rattrap felt like he was being knocked about, even if Starscream was only just getting to the heavier petting, his larger body blocking the light in patches as he swung around on top. Things were becoming very tight and uncomfortable below deck, but Rattrap really didn’t want to be the first to admit that they were not having some kind of twisted fight and actually attempting foreplay. Concurrently, there was a part of him that worried his lack of physical response, positive or otherwise, would deter Starscream’s affections. Admittedly, it was mostly because his hands were still trapped, but…

Starscream saved him the trouble by retracting his own first, hot spike sliding out wetly between his thighs and resting heavily along Rattrap’s lower belly. He swallowed, thickly, as Starscream continued to grind down, optics closed as he moaned with pleased relief.

“Disgusting. Look at you, vermin, _filthy.”_

His spike was pretty nice, even Rattrap had to admit. Thicker than he’d thought, too, and lined with raised ridges all down the smooth shaft. His own panels tried to retract at the queue, but, to his immense annoyance, Starscream’s aft blocked his equipment from pressurizing. His struggles began anew, highly uncomfortable.

“Ey, are we doin’ this or what?”

It was meant as a hint that Starscream should move, but instead the appointed king thrust his hips down harder, dragging his spike through the mess on Rattrap’s belly and adding to it with his own prefluid, pelvic span rubbing tantalizingly along the tip of Rattrap’s equipment as it tried to escape its housing.

“Shut up, Rattrap!”

The words were hissed between clenched teeth, Starscream too deep in his rapture to be feeling any real malice. Realizing that Primus helped those who helped themselves, Rattrap began bucking upwards into Starscream’s greater bulk, trying to, if not dislodge him, at least move him enough to free his spike. Starscream bit him and he felt a dollop of drool roll down his neck.

“Are you getting off on this, rodent? Do you- do you find this arousing?”

“I’da thought the answer was pretty- h-hey!”

Starscream slid back off him in one slick movement, finally freeing him but recapturing him just as easily as he grasped his hips firmly, eyeing his interface equipment with a little more voracity than Rattrap was comfortable with. His entire front was a black smear, little fan shaped patters indicating where he’d rubbed Rattrap’s fur. Chittering – a habit he’d picked up since taking this form – Rattrap finally was able to apply his hands to that tempting chassis, and so he did, running his muck greased fingers down the smooth, waxy finish. Starscream tossed his head back dramatically, rocking and moaning again.

This time the rocking brought his spike between Rattrap’s legs, nudging here and there, but it was close enough to his valve that he could feel the heat. It had been a long time since he’s interfaced that way, and while it normally didn’t appeal to him, it seemed to be the way things were going and with Starscream in whatever frenzied fit he was in Rattrap found he could not complain. Sweeping forward to lick at his belly, Starscream purred.

“Filthy, filthy, filthy.”

He curled his thighs up and the head of his spike again nudged Rattrap’s valve. Again he was reminded of how large the other was, and he began to curl his fingers against Starscream with urgency.

“Now, boss, wait a klik-!”

“Quiet.”

And he pushed in. It was smooth enough that at first Rattrap was more stunned than anything (when had he gotten so wet?). Slowly, though, the burn began, the wonderful mix of surprised pain and heated pleasure that spread up from his crotch to his stomach, his legs, his spark. Rattrap bucked up, scrabbling against the slick surface of the tub for purchase. He squealed. It was embarrassing but he did, the noise of an animal in fright, but he was hardly afraid anymore.

He would have thought they’d run into a bit of trouble arranging themselves in the confined space, but Starscream seemed to melt over his frame, pushing his thighs apart with ease, skinny hips lifting and pushing until he was fully within him. Rattrap hissed, and squirmed, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, certainly not the worst he’d had. Starscream himself was in more of a frenzy than before, burying his face in Rattrap’s fur and sniffing for all he was worth as he began to move, smearing his face through the muck.

The first few thrusts were still a little painful, but it was hard to concentrate on that when Starscream was so obviously enjoying g himself, groaning and whining, his high voice turning just gravely enough under the influence of pleasure to send thrills through rattrap’s laser core. His fee came up around Starscream’s skinny waist, trying to find purchase against his hips or the tub edge.

As if inebriated, Starscream began to slur, thrusting harder and harder, until the very foundations of the tub shook. Rattrap absently worried about the sunken tub falling through the floor beneath them, but was torn from his fears when Starscream pulled back and twisted, the new angle smacking directly against his ceiling node.

“You’re so tight, you nasty garbage, so-so tight…”

He wanted to be offended by the continuous dirty talk, but it was honestly turning Starscream on so much that he couldn’t’ bring himself to break the fantasy. Plus those ridges felt so nice. He really needed to indulge more. Also, if being a stinkin’ rat had this much effect on his boss, maybe he should try getting messed up a little more often.

“Ah, boss-!”

He was losing it fast. Starscream was panting and drooling a little, undignified as could be as he rutted into his subordinate. The cramped positioning made everything more intensely deep, and the coils of head were tightening in his core. Just as he was about to cum, Starscream did, overloading hard as he screeched into Rattrap’s neck.

The scent, the gritty feel of the filth between them; it had been far, far too much. His spike discharged, and Rattrap could not hold off at all as he felt the mess intensify between his legs, Starscream’s transfluid spurting out from his thin valve and mixing silver with the black goop around them. His own equipment leaked heavily, sparks jumping from his plating and playing along his seams as he bucked up beneath Starscream’s heavier form, slumped with completion.

Pulling apart was the worst thing. They had laid together, panting, until Starscream had begun snorting and grumbling in the way he did when he was trying to mask embarrassment, pulling up. They both grimaced as they peeled from one another, plating to plating, fur to glass. Rattrap expected the customary kliks of awkward silence that usually accompanied the revelation that they had just gotten down and, for lack of better phrasing, dirty, but Starscream’s reassertion was swift and merciless.

“You had better hope for your sake that my tub isn’t clogged.”

He reached over to the faucet and turned on the shower, easing back as the solvents sputtered down upon them. Sitting up on his elbows, Rattrap sneered.

“Hey, you told me not to worry about it!”

“Well,” said Starscream, leaning back against the tub, depressurizing spike still bobbing between his thighs, “I lied, didn’t I?”


End file.
